The Avengers Guide to Surviving High School
by PercyJacksonTheAwesome
Summary: Tony is a billionaire's son still attending public school. Bruce is a science geek who gets himself on Tony's good side. Clint & Natasha are outsiders who may or may not be in love. Steve is the new kid who gets all the attention he doesn't want. Thor & Loki are foreign exchange students who bring the trouble with them. When they clash, things both work and fall apart. AU,Clintasha
1. Chapter 1: Tony

**A/N: Hey there, guys! I know, I know, I should be working on _Iron Man Knows All_, and I feel EXTREMELY guilty for not updating in forever; you guys will get an update soon, I PROMISE! However, in my writer's block on that story, I decided to start writing this. It's going to be a secondary project to _Iron Man Knows All_, as that will always come first in my priorities from this day forth!  
Here's how this is going to work. I have already written two more chapters for this story. I will post the next one tomorrow or the day after, and the next chapter the next day or so after that. But, in the meantime, I want REVIEWS! I want to know what you guys think, how much you like it, and maybe possibly, some things you might want to happen!  
And, without further ado, the first chapter in my Avengers High School Story!**

Chapter 1: Tony

The car rolled to a stop as it pulled into the school parking lot. The engine loitered, then turned off. Tony sighed. He shouldn't have to put up with this. He was Tony Stark, son of billionaire Howard Stark. He shouldn't be forced to go to public school with the public. It was demeaning. For ten years of his life, Tony had been homeschooled by the world's most prestigious tutor. But when Tony had set fire to her Porsche and taken her wig right off her head, she'd stated that he was a notorious child and impossible to teach any longer and she quit, taking her money and burnt Porsche with her. Tony's father had made him go to public school last year, and Tony had barely made it through the ninth grade. No, it wasn't that he was failing all his classes; they were much too easy. He just had a problem with authority. He only made it past that year because his father was one of the most powerful men in the country, behind the president.

Today was Tony's first day of tenth grade. And yes, he could drive a car. He made sure of that fact. He wasn't looking forward to stepping into that building. The classes were too easy. He could pass them in the blink of an eye, if he tried. It was below him to actually try. Then the teachers would expect more out of him. There were only three reasons Tony actually went to school. The first was so that he didn't get marked down absent and reported to his father. The last thing he needed was his father on his tail.

The second was so that he could watch all the people at school. Sometimes it was fun just to watch. Since his old childhood friends Rhodey and Happy went to the high school across the city, Tony had to come up with games to play himself. And sometimes those games were fun. Sometimes they backfired.

The third reason was so that he might get a chance with the beautiful Pepper Potts. He'd met her last year, and it was his ultimate goal in life to get her to become entranced with him. So far, it hadn't worked. He'd tried all the tricks in the book, but she was still out of his reach. This year, he'd have to try something else.

Tony heard the warning bell ring. He sighed. He didn't particularly want to start the year off with calls to his father. He reluctantly slung his bag over his shoulder and got out of the car, starting his strut toward the front door. He felt the eyes of all the freshmen girls lock onto him and heard the frenzied whispers, and he began to smile. Ah, yes, the glam of being famous. Sometimes it was nice.

Of course, the minute he walked into the building, he ran smack into another kid.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Tony snapped.

"Sorry."

"Do you who I am?"

"Yeah. You're the local narcissistic smart-ass."

Tony whipped his head towards the kid and give him a look-over. He was a scrawnier kid, with a mess of black hair and a backpack once neat of papers that was now spilling of them. He retrieved a pair of glasses from the floor, wiped them on his purple polo shirt and put them on his face. He looked Tony in the eye.

"You're the smart-ass," Tony chirped.

"Not usually. I don't usually talk," the kid said.

"Really? 'Cause you seem to be doing an excellent job of it right now."

The kid shrugged and began to shove his books and papers back into his bag. Tony snuck a peek at some of them.

"Physics?" Tony questioned, looking back at the kid. "You a junior?" He looked a little small to be a junior.

"Nah. Sophomore. Took biology in eighth grade and chemistry last year."

Tony smiled. He was beginning to like this kid. "Math?"

"Calculus. Already took all those other ones."

Tony liked this kid even more. He picked up the last remaining book and handed it to the kid. "Well, then. There's a reason the word smart is in smart-ass." Tony extended his hand. "I'm Tony Stark."

The kid took it. "I know."

"And you are?"

"Bruce Banner."

"Well, nice to meet you, Bruce. Where you going first?"

"Physics."

"Well, well. That's just where I happen to be headed." Tony put his arm around Bruce's shoulder and they proceeded down the hall. "You and I have things to talk about, Bruce. And I feel that we might just connect a little."

Things were looking up for Tony this year.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! You! See the review button down there? CLICK IT and write a review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Clint

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Next one will likely be Tuesday. In the meantime, enjoy, and REVIEW!**

**~PJA**

Chapter 2: Clint

"C'mon, Nat. I told you, it'll be fun."  
"I don't see why I should waste my time."

"Fine. If you don't want to, just sit back and watch."

Clint Barton, from his perch in the tree, sat back with his slingshot and waited for the perfect target to pass by. Pegging freshmen was fun, but no easy task. You had to be calm, patient, and absolutely silent for it to work. Like a sniper.

"Just don't hit them in the eye. Remember what happened last time."

"Shh, be quiet, Nat! And I won't hit them in the eye. I know how much it hurts to have an acorn in your eye."

He could hear Natasha sigh behind him. He knew she disapproved of this activity, but she never stopped him. Even when he got reported to the principal last time.

"I see one!" Clint shouted.

He aimed his slingshot, pulled back the rubber band, and then released it with a twang. He knew he'd gotten his target when he heard a thunk and someone scream, "Ow! What the hell was that?"

Clint turned around and grinned to Natasha. "I got it. And in the arm, not the eye."

Natasha shook her head, but Clint could see her grin. "Come on, Hawkeye. We should get to class."

"Aw, but Nat!"

"It's the first day of school. Please. Don't start the year off on a bad foot."

Clint groaned. "Alright. But just for you."

Clint jumped out of the tree and hit the ground hard. But Natasha was already on the ground waiting for him.

"How do you do that?" Clint asked.  
"Do what?"

"Apparate."

"Clint. This isn't Harry Potter."

"Teleport."

"I can't teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The warning bell rung. Natasha headed inside, and Clint scurried to follow, shoving the slingshot in his backpack. As he entered the hallway, he braced himself, hoping it would be different this year.

It wasn't. Everywhere he looked, all the guys were checking out Natasha; even all the upperclassmen. It made Clint sick to watch. This happened every year, since they had met. Natasha just happened to have a body that most men were attracted to, so guys were naturally drawn to her. It disgusted Clint. She didn't seem to mind too terribly much, though she averted their eyes, kept her distance and was probably used to it by now. Clint probably never would be.

No, he wasn't jealous. No way! He was simply...protecting her. Yeah, that was it, though Tasha could take care of herself just fine. She did gymnastics and martial arts, and she could beat him up in about fifty different ways. Clint only knew seventeen of those ways on a personal level.

Clint strayed another inch or so closer to Natasha. If she noticed or cared, she didn't say anything. He resisted the strong urge to get even closer to her, or to take her hand. That would be pushing the limit. Natasha was his best friend, and he hers. There were only so many things Clint could do. He knew Natasha didn't like him like that. And he didn't like her like that. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The pair took a turn down a side hallway, leaving the mob of teenagers behind them. There were always less people loitering by the classrooms in the morning. Clint took a look at a flyer hanging on the wall and grinned at Natasha.

"So, are you gonna run for Homecoming Queen this year?" He winked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "No."

"Why not? You know all the guys would vote for you."

"It's beneath me to run for a position like that, Clint. I don't want to put myself among all those girls who think about nothing more than how much mascara to coat their eyelashes and the guy they're gonna go mess around with at home later."

Clint chuckled. He knew Natasha would get like this; this was always her opinion when it came to other girls. But she could do it. She could run for Homecoming Queen if she wanted. Clint would vote for her.

Quickly, they arrived at their destination. Clint was just glad he had first period English with Natasha this year. He'd probably fall asleep while reading and/or discussing To Kill A Mockingbird. Thank goodness he'd have someone to wake him up this year.

They strolled in and took the seats in the back farthest away from the teacher's desk. The teacher currently wasn't in the room, and Clint hadn't bothered to read his schedule enough to see who his teacher was. He just prayed he'd get a good one. Clint closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Don't get too comfortable, Clint."

"Why not? It's not like we're gonna have that teacher from last year. He hated my guts."

"Um..."

The bell rung, and the door slammed closed. Clint opened his eyes, and then immediately regretted it.

"Aw, damn it," he whispered.

"Language. It's the first day."

Mr. Inglehart, Clint's God-awful ninth grade English teacher, was looking around the room, but stopped when his eyes hit Clint.

"Well, well. If it isn't Mr. Barton. How...nice it is to see you again this year."

"It certainly isn't nice to see you, sir."

"I thought I'd requested for you not to be put in my class."

"I guess none of the other teachers thought they could handle me."

Mr. Inglehart stared daggers at Clint, but quickly regained his composure. "My apologies," he addressed the class. "Mr. Barton and I have a...history. Let me take attendance real quick."

After doing so, Mr. Inglehart stood up in front of the class.

"Welcome to tenth grade honors English. As most of you know, I'm Mr. Inglehart."

The class remained silent.

"We have much in store for the curriculum. But we're going to start off the year with To Kill A Mockingbird. I expect all of you to read the book thoroughly, understand it, and be able to analyze and ask questions about the book." He glared at Clint. "All of you."

Clint didn't even wait for him to turn around before making a face at him. Natasha elbowed him in the side.

"Get your underwear out of a knot. Don't ruin it yet."

"It's already ruined, Nat."

* * *

"I can't believe you got out of there without a detention."

"I can't believe I got out of there alive."

"Try not to make it worse next class."

"No promises."

"Clint." Natasha stopped him in the middle of the hallway, with people all around. She put her hands on his shoulders, Clint all too aware of her touch. Her green eyes stared into his.

"I want things to be different this year. We got into a bunch of trouble last year. I want to change that. I can feel something different, like something's gonna happen. I don't know what it is, but it's gonna be big. Can you try to be good? For me?"

Clint stared at her. He couldn't help himself. Her flawless face, piercing green eyes, and deep red curls. Perfection. But he snapped himself out of it, remembering she asked him a question.

"It won't be easy. But I'll try."

She smiled. "Thanks, Clint. I want to start over. Sort of...wipe the red out of my ledger, you know?"

"I gotcha."

They continued to walk to her next class. Unfortunately, Clint didn't have this class with her. In fact, his next class was on the opposite side of the school. He was going to be late. But Clint didn't care. It was Natasha who cared about being on time.

Natasha turned to face Clint when they reached her next classroom. "Aren't you going to be late, Clint Barton?"

Clint waved her question away like it was nothing. "Pfft. No. I can make it over there. Unlike you, I can teleport." He gave her a nice big grin.

Natasha tried to hide her grin. "Don't get into too much trouble without me. I can't save you all the time."

"What, am I the damsel in distress now?"

Natasha said nothing, though that grin still tickled her face.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Clint quickly drew her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him as well. He didn't let go for awhile. He didn't want her to leave his arms.

However, she released him. "See you soon, Hawkeye."

"You as well, Tasha."

She turned and entered the classroom. Clint continued to stare at the spot where she'd been standing, trying to deny all the thoughts entering his mind. It was making him blush, and he didn't like that. No, no he did not like Natasha like that.

...Did he?

The bell rung in his ears, and continued to ring even after it'd stopped. Clint sighed.

He was definitely going to be late.


	3. Chapter 3: Steve

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! And here's the deal: I currently have no more written for this. I have no promises for when the next chapter will be, but it's going to be good. And, from this moment on, this takes second priority to my story _Iron Man Knows All. _That will be updated firsthand from now on.  
But in the meantime, enjoy the next chapter, and remember to REVIEW!**

Chapter 3: Steve

Steve Rogers stared at the massive and daunting building before him. None of his other schools had been this massive. He was used to small schools with classes of two hundred, and everyone knew each other. This school had a class of at least four hundred. At least, that's what his parents had said. Steve was a military kid, raised in a military family, so he'd moved around a lot. However, it was only recently that he'd finally gotten in shape. He was this scrawny little thing, and over the summer his family had moved, and Steve had gone to a military camp for teens. Over the course of the summer, Steve had gained twice his body weight in muscle, and now sported the body of a bodybuilder. He was proud of himself, but he didn't like to linger on it, though he now went to the gym multiple times a week and was considering trying out for the football team.

This would be the first school year for Steve with the new body, let alone the fact that it was a new school altogether, with twice as many people he was used to being around. He wasn't sure how the student population would take to him being around.

Steve let out a deep breath, readjusted the camouflage backpack on his shoulders, and walked through the front doors of the school. He was taken aback by the massive crowd that greeted him.

He'd seen some students milling about in the parking lot, so he thought he was prepared for what laid inside. He wasn't. There were kids packed to the walls. There were about one hundred kids just standing in front of him. He was in shock. It would be a fight just to get to the main office, which was about thirty feet away from him. Steve braced himself. He could do this. He barrelled through the crowd, using his body as a battering ram. He felt guilty, and he could feel the eyes of everyone he pushed past glued to him. It was quite uncomfortable, actually.

He finally made it to the front office, and he refused to look at the all the kids currently staring at him. He went up to the secretary's desk. She looked at him through bespectacled eyes.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Steve Rogers. I'm new here, and I was told to come to the front office to pick up my schedule and all my papers."

The secretary seemed impressed by his manners. She probably didn't get that a lot from high school boys. She smiled at him. "Yes, I was told you'd be coming. Let's see if we can get those papers for you." She began to click away at her computer. Steve could only hope she could find it quickly; he didn't have too much experience with computers, as they weren't required for homework at his old schools. In fact, his old schools didn't really have too many computers in general. Computers for the teachers and about one computer lab per school. Steve was not really in the know of technology. The only reason he had a phone was so his parents could contact him. He barely used it at all. He preferred paper, and handwritten notes.

"Ah, here it is." The secretary interrupted his thoughts. "Steven Grant Rogers, tenth grade."

Steve nodded. "That's me."

"Alright, then." The printer whirred to life, spitting out papers. The secretary handed them to him. "Here's your schedule and everything else you need. If you have any questions, feel free to come back and ask me or any office staff member, or ask one of your peers. I'm sure they'll be happy to help.

Steve glanced out the glass windows overlooking the main hallway. His peers didn't exactly look inviting or helpful. Steve looked at the papers in his hand. He brought his schedule to the front of the stack.

"Um, where's..." he took a look at where his first class was. "Room B132?"

"Go all the way down the main hallway and take a left before you reach the huge staircase. There'll be a big B on the wall. From there take the side hallway, go to the end, take another left, then a right, and it should be on your right."

Steve lost half of that in translation. "Thank you." He figured it was polite. He pushed open the door and braced himself as he inserted himself in the flow of kids in the hallway. This time, he actually looked around at his fellow peers. And they were indeed staring at him. Some of them were even whispering. He knew that he might stand out a little, being six-two and muscly and all, but it really wasn't a reason for all this attention. He really wasn't too comfortable with it all. He tried to ignore it all, but it wasn't really possible now that he knew everyone was looking.

He tried to remember the secretary's directions. He went down the hallway, looking for a large B on the left wall. He found it, then turned. From there it was a lot more complicated. Luckily, traffic was reduced by half in the side hallways, which helped. He went to the end of the hallway, then took a left.

The instructions from there didn't match up with the layout of the school. She'd said to take a right. There were about three hallways going right. Which one was the right one? He looked at the numbers of the rooms in this hallway, but he instantly regretted it. They didn't help whatsoever. The rooms right next to each other had the same numbers, but the ones across the hall were about forty numbers away. The room on the other side of the hallway was about twenty numbers away. Steve's brain began to pound. His other schools weren't labyrinths like this one. He didn't like big schools. They confused him.

Steve took a deep breath, calming down his nerves. He was going to have to go to trial-and-error mode. He took a right down the first hallway, praying it was the right one. He looked to his right, searching for the number. To his luck, his classroom was the first one he saw. He sighed in relief. That wasn't as hard as he'd feared it would be. He was about to push open the door, but something further down the hallway caught his eye.

It was Tony Stark, son of billionaire Howard Stark, who had his arm around a scrawny kid with glasses. Steve opened his eyes wide in shock. Tony Stark went to this school? How come he didn't know? Tony Stark was famous! And actually, his parents knew Howard Stark. His dad had worked with Mr. Stark on some sort of project, and they still kept in contact. Steve and his parents had been invited to a party at his house once when Steve was about eight. Steve remembered seeing Tony there, and he remembered they hadn't gotten along too well. Tony ignored him for most of the night. Steve doubted Tony would recognize him now. It had been eight years, and Steve had changed his appearance drastically. There was no way.

But as Tony was rounding a turn into a classroom down the hallway, he saw Steve, and a hint of a flicker of recognition flared in his eye. But it only lasted for half a second, then was gone. Tony looked away, then led the scrawny kid into the classroom.

Steve pushed open the door to his own classroom, trying to push Tony Stark out of his mind. Though, he wasn't sure how he would be able to focus on chemistry, and he wasn't exactly sure what had inspired him to sign up for honors.


	4. Chapter 4: Tony

**A/N: Hey guys! If any of you are following _Iron Man Knows All_...I apologize for that. It was too much to resist. However, this is the real deal for this story. I'm honestly really, really proud of this. I hope you guys enjoy. I honestly don't know when the next chapter will be up, so just hang with me. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review, and maybe take the poll on my page and read my other stories!  
BTW, before I wrote this author's note, this chapter had 2,222 words.  
~PJA**

Chapter 4: Tony

To be perfectly honest, Tony _loved_ having Bruce in his physics class. He had a brilliant mind and was great to work with, and actually knew and cared about what he was doing.

However, he was skeptical about having him in his gym class.

Not that Tony himself was too terribly gung-ho about athletics, but he did go to the gym sometimes. However, he was a bit weary about how the scrawny Banner would perform in gym class.

But, being Tony Stark, and the _great_ friend that he was, he was very enthusiastic about having a friend in his gym class two classes later. He and Bruce entered the gym, joining the mob of students already there.

However, some idiot decided it would be a great idea to bump into him.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the idiot snapped at him.

"You're the one doing the tango over here! Besides, do you know who you're talking to?"

"Nope. Definitely have never seen you or your father before."

Tony stopped and looked the idiot in the face. He looked just as pleased as Tony was. His blue eyes were lit aflame, directly in line with Tony's own. He seemed to be challenging him. Tony narrowed his own eyes.

"Oh, really? Who do you think you are?"

"I think I am who I am."

"You're a smart-ass, you know that?"

"I'm told every day."

"And Example A, right here."

"He's already on Example Z. Don't flatter yourself."

Tony looked for the source of the new voice. It was a girl, standing right next to the idiot. And, despite himself, Tony had to take a good look. She had deep red curls, pouty lips, and curves, and it was all Tony could do to keep his demeanor. To be honest, she was smoking. But, from the way the idiot stood, it was obvious she was already taken.

He was surprised the idiot wasn't holding her hand.

"I'm offended. The great Tony Stark, demoted to Example Z? How could I?"

The idiot scowled and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder, leading her away. "And he goes around calling_ other_ people smart-ass," he mumbled.

Tony made a face at them as they dispersed into the crowd. Bruce smirked.

"What, jealous 'cause you found someone just as smart-ass as you?"

"Pfft. No. No way. No one can compete with Tony Stark." Tony beamed. "Who was that, anyway?"

"No idea. Never seen him before."

"And the girl?"

"Now her, I've run into before. Her name, I believe, is Romanoff. Well, that's her last name. I forget her first name. Something like Natalie or Nadia, or Natalia or something."

"How'd you meet her?"

"Ran into her at an international show convention thing. You know, where you have information and presentations about some specific countries. I was representing India; she was representing Russia. She's fluent, you know."

"Really?"

"And she can cuss you out in it."

"You don't have to warn me."

A whistle blew, interrupting their conversation. The two boys turned their heads toward the shrill noise, their attention brought to the gym teacher.

He was a slightly big guy, black, had an overpowering demeanor and, for some reason, instead of wearing typical gym attire, he was wearing a black trench coat. And, additional to that, he was wearing an eye patch. Tony wondered what he did to get it.

"Attention, class, this is not a social hour! I expect work and respect from all of you," he announced.

"Sounds like he's never taught at a high school before," Tony whispered to Bruce, making him chuckle.

Apparently, the man had super-sonic hearing, because he whipped his head toward Tony, his eye boggling for a moment as his gaze lingered. "Well, well. Look who I have the honor of teaching this year. Mr. Stark?"

Tony bristled, a little uncomfortable. "That's my name, don't wear it out. It needs to stay nice and in-style."

The man grunted. "Mr. Stark. I expect more from you in this class."

"In here? It's _gym_ class. No one cares, Mr..."

"Fury."

A shiver was sent down Tony's spine. That voice sounded familiar and set off alarm bells, but he didn't know why. "Mr. Fury. I personally do not care about gym class, and I don't particularly want to try."

Mr. Fury gave him the evil eye. "I know your father, Mr. Stark."

Tony stopped cold. He knew his father? That couldn't be a good thing. How did he know his father? Was he a friend? A co-worker? An employee? An agent sent by his father to watch him at school to make sure he didn't do anything stupid?

Tony opened his mouth to ask him a couple questions, but Mr. Fury turned his attention away from Tony back to the rest of the class.

"I'm not going to start off the year with a bunch of 'expectations' and 'rules' and nonsense. Just put in a lot of effort and don't be stupid. We're going to start off the year by playing a few games of badminton."

There were mixed reactions to this. Some of the students groaned, while others cheered. Badminton, for Tony, seemed like a useless game. It was like tennis, but...stupider. Instead of a ball, there was a birdie. And you weren't even allowed to gloat, 'cause no one cared if you won a badminton game. However, for all its negatives, Tony was half-decent at badminton. He wasn't terrible, but he wasn't the best. Bruce, however, he wasn't so sure about.

"Get into teams of two," Mr. Fury declared. "I'll decide who plays who."

Tony immediately put his arm around Bruce, laying claim to his partner. Luckily for him, no one else really seemed to want Bruce.

After pairing up some other groups, Mr. Fury sauntered up to Tony and Bruce. "You two will be playing Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff."

Romanoff? Wait a minute, that was the girl the idiot was with. And that meant...

"We meet again."

Tony looked up to find that Mr. Fury had led the two over to Tony and Bruce, and currently he was staring into the eyes of the now-named idiot, Clint Barton.

"Aw, come on, Fury!" Tony complained. "I don't wanna play against this idiot!"

The ice in the idiot's - Clint's - eyes flared up again. However, Fury's eyes twinkled mischievously. "All the more reason for you to play them. Go play in that corner court over there. The equipment is waiting for you."

Tony couldn't believe it. He, Tony Stark, was being forced to play against this..._idiot_. Perhaps now was the perfect time to bump his title up to _moron_. Tony, scowling, motioned to Bruce and led him to the corner court, hoping to get as far away from Clint the moron and his girlfriend, no matter how pretty she was, as possible.

When they arrived, they picked up their racquets, twisting them around in their hands. They seemed lighter than the last time Tony remembered picking one up...no, wait, that had been a tennis racket. Damn.

Tony glanced at the opposing side, checking out their competition. Both of them seemed perfectly comfortable with the racquets in their hands, and Clint was currently bouncing the birdie on his. Tony began to get a little nervous.

"Uh...Bruce?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"How good are you at badminton?"

"Fairly okay. I played a little bit at my middle school."

"Okay...I just don't want to lose too embarrassingly."

Bruce chuckled. "You got it."

"Hey! Are you guys ready or are you still primping yourselves?" Clint's voice boomed across the court. Tony stood up and looked him in the eye.

"Come at me, bro."

Clint didn't seem to take this very lightly. He tossed the birdie in the air, and smacked it with a force Tony didn't expect from the guy. The birdie was on the floor at his feet before he'd even seen it move.

Tony looked up to see a wide grin on Clint's face. He spun his racquet in his fingers.

"I believe that is a point for us."

Tony shared a look with Bruce.

"I want her to serve the next one," Tony told Clint, pointing at Natasha. "I don't like the way you serve."

Clint grinned like he knew something they didn't. "_O_-kay. You might regret that decision."

Tony was skeptical. He tossed the birdie over the net to Natasha, who caught it in one hand.

What followed, Tony did not see, but he heard. He heard Natasha smack the birdie even harder than Clint did, and then the next thing he knew Bruce was on the ground screaming "Ow!" and clutching his right eye. Tony widened his eyes in fear, then rushed to Bruce's side.

"Bruce! What happened?"

Bruce was breathing heavily, trying to steady his breaths. Tony thought he looked a little green, but the idea was gone as soon as it came. "The birdie got me in the eye."

"What? I didn't even see that thing move."

"Well, it got me."

"Are you okay?"

Bruce removed his hand from his face and blinked a few times. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Tony whipped his head toward the opposing court, fuming. "What the hell was that?"

The other two could only grin.

"You should've listened to Clint," Natasha said, the birdie miraculously back in her hand. Tony noticed that she spoke little, but she had a smooth voice that he was sure Clint loved to listen to.

Tony scowled. "Fine. Give the birdie back to the moron."

So she tossed the birdie to Tony.

"Give it to _Clint_," he said through gritted teeth.

Clint chuckled as he caught the birdie. "Glad to know you don't think I'm a moron, Tasha."

"I've just never said it."

"Aw, you wound me."

"Hey! Moron!" Tony called. "Stop flirting with your girlfriend and serve!"

Clint's face flushed a deep red. "What? You eager to lose?"

"I can't lose! I'm Tony freaking Stark!"

"I hate to break it to you, but you're currently losing."

Tony looked him in the eye. "Give me all you've got."

* * *

Soon, the badminton game was over, and for a lack of better words, Tony and Bruce got pummeled. It was embarrassing how badly they lost. They never got the opportunity to serve; in fact, between the two of them, they hit the birdie a total of three times. The birdie was continually pelted onto their court, but eventually they were able to see it. They attempted to make some dives and saves, but all they did was crash into each other. He'd heard Clint's laugh enough times now to have it memorized.

When the whistle was blown, signaling the end of the games, Tony had to restrain himself to not throw down his racquet. He was humiliated. He was Tony freaking Stark. He shouldn't _ever_ be in a state like this. He was not only humiliated; he was _mad_.

Clint smiled as he and Natasha passed by him, again spinning his racquet.

"Well, I had fun, Stark. Perhaps we should do it again sometime."

Tony wasn't thinking as he spat out, "What, did your mother teach you to hit like that? She could've done better."

Obviously this set off something in Clint. His eyes lit up with an anger that Tony hadn't seen before. His lip curled into a snarl, his body conforming into an animalistic stance.

"Take. That. Back."

"Why should I?"

The only reason Clint didn't tear Tony's face off was because Natasha had an iron grip. Clint launched himself at Tony in a fit of complete anger, but Natasha held him back.

"Don't do it, Clint. It's not worth it."

"But-"

"_No_."

Her voice was firm and cold, and she obviously had a hand over Clint. Still gripping both of his arms behind his back, she led him away.

Bruce turned to face Tony, his face also angry, though not half as angry as Clint's. "What the hell was that for?"

"I...I don't know," Tony admitted. "I wasn't thinking. I just said the crap on the tip of my tongue. I didn't mean it. Not a word. I was just...mad." He was honest. He felt terrible. He didn't mean anything bad toward the guy. He just didn't like that his ego was also big, and that he had the nerve to gloat in front of him.

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "You and your ego have created a problem. You have to go to Clint and apologize."

"What? Why should I do that?"

Bruce was serious. "Because it's polite. And you don't want Clint to stew around in misery and anger, do you?"

"...No."

"Exactly. Now, we have lunch next, right?"

"Yes."

"Now when class lets out, go catch Clint in the hallway and apologize."

Tony let out a deep sigh. "Okay."

Tony marveled at the fact that even though he had only met Bruce today, he trusted him more than he had anyone in years. And Bruce was already watching over him like a babysitter. But he was cool, too.

The bell rung in their ears, letting class out. Tony spotted Clint across the gym, hurrying out the gym with Natasha on his heels.

Bruce saw them, too. He gave Tony a look.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I gotta go catch them."


	5. Chapter 5: Natasha

**A/N: Guys I apologize ONE HUNDRED TIMES OVER for not updating in...what, a couple months? SO SORRYYYYY~! Things got busy, and it's the end of the year so it'll only get busier. But school ends June 18th, so I'll be free then! But until then...sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry for the holdup. But I did go see Iron Man 3...is that an acceptable excuse? No? Okay. So go ahead and enjoy the next chapter! I have no idea how long it'll be until the next one's up, sorry. But as always, I'm open to suggestions, and REVIEW! I live off those. I want EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU READING THIS TO REVIEW! Please! Have it as a challenge for yourself.  
Thanks bunches!  
~PJA**

Chapter 5: Natasha

"Clint, calm down. He didn't know. He didn't mean it. He's a rich, narcissistic idiot."

Clint, storming ahead, was hard to get to through that thick head of his. He was steaming and stewing, and Natasha was trying her best to calm him down.

"It doesn't matter, Natasha," he spat. "He said it. He can't take it back."

"Clint." Natasha took his hand, making him stop in his tracks. He turned to look at her. Natasha was all too aware of how red his face was. "You need to relax and let it go. He didn't know. I'm the only one you've told. There's no way for him to know. Tony Stark doesn't know anything about you."

"Yeah, but my mother -"

They heard a throat cleared behind them. "Um. Excuse me."

Tony Stark himself was standing behind them. Clint, suddenly all too aware of himself, dropped Natasha's hand, much to her dismay. She immediately cursed herself for thinking that.

Clint narrowed his eyes into slits. "What do you want, Stark?"

Tony looked extremely uncomfortable. He tugged on his collar, then tried his best to look Clint in the eye.

"I just wanted to...apologize for my actions back there. It was inappropriate of me. I wasn't thinking. It isn't right of me to say anything about your mother. So...I'm sorry."

He sounded sincere. But Natasha could tell that Clint was skeptical. His eyes stayed narrowed. "It's gonna take more than that to get me to believe you, Stark."

"I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything. What do you want me to do?"

Now Natasha was skeptical. Where was all this coming from?

However, Tony kept on talking. "Ooh, I have a brilliant idea! How about, this Friday, I take you and your girlfriend out for a night on the town? We'll go to the best restaurant in town, see a movie, and then...we'll go laser-tagging! All my treat. How does that sound?"

Clint was silent for awhile. But when he finally spoke, all he said was, "She's not my girlfriend."

A look of pity took over Tony's face. "Aw, have you been friendzoned, my dear Barton? What a shame."

"Shut up, Stark."

"Anyway, what do you say? Can I take you guys out this Friday?"

He had a look on his face like an expectant puppy. Clint looked at Natasha, waiting for her opinion. She nodded.

"Alright, Stark," Clint said. "You've got yourself a deal."

Tony lit up in glee. "Yeah! I can't wait! This is gonna be so much fun! Make sure you guys dress up nice. This isn't gonna be a burger joint we're going to."

Natasha sighed. "Tony, what made you come back here? You're...Tony Stark."

"Well, it wasn't my idea. Bruce told me to."

That was when Natasha noticed the scrawny kid Bruce standing behind Tony, where he must've been the entire time. Tony's badminton partner who had much more sense than he did. She liked this kid. She remembered him from the international convention. He could speak fluent Hindi, which she found cool.

"Hello, Bruce," Natasha greeted with a smile. "Will you be joining us on Friday night?"

Bruce looked a little uncomfortable. His eyes darted this way and that. "Uh...I'm not sure. I'm not really good with crowds."

_Then why does he go to a public school?_ Natasha thought.

"Nonsense!" Tony declared, throwing an arm around Bruce. "Of _course_ you're coming! I'm not going to be a third wheel! I need my wingman. I'll pick you up Friday along with these two."

A lick of a smile spread to Bruce's face. "I'm still not very good with crowds."

"I'll get us a private room for dinner and just buy out a few rows at the theatre. And for laser tag...well, you're just gonna have to deal. Now, sound good?"

"Better."

"Excellent!" He clapped his hands together. "I'm honestly really excited, guys! This is gonna be fun. I can feel it in my bones."

Natasha shot Clint another look. She was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," Natasha said. "But we really need to get into lunch. If I don't eat soon my stomach is going to eat me from the inside out."

"Actually," Tony said, shuffling his feet around, "I was thinking that maybe you guys would like to sit with us."

Natasha was more surprised than the time Clint told her he actually _wanted_ to go to math class that day. "Uh...why?"

"Well, 'cause you guys are cool, and you aren't afraid to actually rebut my smart-assness. And...I don't actually have a group of people to sit with."

This topped the last surprise. "What?" Clint asked in mock-surprise. "The great Tony Stark doesn't have a group to sit with? Don't you have a posse of followers?"

"Surprisingly, for the amount of people who like me, there are just as many people who hate me."

"I wonder why," Natasha muttered.

"So, what do you say?" Tony asked, outstretching his hand. "Lunch buddies?"

Clint didn't need Natasha's approval this time. Though it took a moment, he took Tony's hand and shook it. "Lunch buddies." He began to grin.

Natasha didn't even need words to know that this wouldn't end well.

Tony threw his arm over Clint's shoulder and began to walk through the doors of the cafeteria. Natasha crossed her arms. She didn't like that. At all. And she didn't exactly know why, entirely. She didn't trust Tony, and she didn't want him that close to her Clint.

Wait. Did she just think_ her_ Clint? Ew, no, that wasn't right. Clint wasn't her property. She just didn't want anyone touching him. Especially not someone like Tony Stark.

She crossed her arms over her chest and followed the pair and Bruce into the cafeteria. Normally on the first day of school, she would feel overwhelmed and annoyed by the immense amount of noise and people in the cafeteria, but today she was distracted by Clint and Tony suddenly acting all buddy-buddy in front of her. Tony was whispering something to Clint, and they began to laugh. Natasha tried her best not to seethe, as Bruce was beginning to give her skeptical looks. She would feel better if she could hear what they were saying.

To Natasha's dismay, the two led them to a table smack in the middle of the cafeteria, and sat down right next to each other. That_ really_ set off Natasha. She wasn't sure she approved of this suddenly newfound friendship between the two of them. Although she encouraged that there be no hard feelings, she didn't exactly trust Tony. At all. She didn't want him to get Clint to do something stupid, though Clint did plenty of that on his own. She could tell that this guy just radiated stupidity and teenage arrogance.

Bruce gave her a look. "Are you okay?" he asked her. "There's steam coming out of your ears."

Natasha tried to shake it off. She couldn't believe her emotions were visible. "No, there isn't. I'm not a cartoon."

Bruce only grinned. "Mhmm. Sure."

She crossed her arms. In all her years, she'd never felt like this. Anger, yes. But complete inner turmoil...no.

"Hey, Bruce, come over here, this guy is brilliant!"

Bruce answered Tony's call and went over to sit next to him at the table. He listened to whatever the heck Tony was saying, who was still whispering too low for Natasha to hear.

She couldn't stand here any longer. "I'm going to get lunch," she announced, but no one, not even Clint, was paying attention to her. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. Seething, she turned on her heel and walked to the lunch line, her face twisted in a scowl.

As she neared the other end of the cafeteria, she heard a voice calling her name. She was confused, as Clint was the only person who ever called her. However, this voice was calling_ Natasha_, not _Tasha_ or _Nat_. She could only hope she wasn't in trouble.

She turned toward the source of the voice, and smiled when she found that it was Mr. Coulson, her favorite teacher. He'd been her history teacher last year, and he was the only one on good terms with her by the end of the year, and was still on good terms with. She walked to Mr. Coulson, the scowl on her face finally gone.

"Hi, Coulson, how are you doing?" Natasha asked him.

"I'm doing great, Natasha," he answered, a twinkle in his eye. "But I have a favor to ask you. Mr. Rogers here is a new student. Do you think you could show him around?"

That was when Natasha noticed the quite huge boy standing next to Mr. Coulson. She was stunned she didn't notice him at first. He was large, buff, tan, and had good hair and a nice face. He was actually quite handsome.

"Yeah, I think I can manage," she answered. "But I will have to buy a lunch."

"That's perfectly fine. You can show him the lunch line."

"I'm not sure how many people actually_ want_ to see the lunch line."

That earned a chuckle from Mr. Coulson. "Thank you, Natasha. Now, I have to run. I have a class a right after lunch. Take care."

"You too."

That left Natasha alone with the boy. Rogers. She didn't even actually know his first name. She looked up at him. He, as if on instinct, outstretched his hand.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Steve."

Natasha was thoroughly impressed by his manners. It was a change from the normal teenage boy. She took his hand and shook it. "Natasha." She dropped it. "So you're new to this school, huh?"

"Yes, I am. It's...very big."

Natasha chuckled. "I guess you could say so. C'mon, I'll show you around the cafeteria."

Trusting that Steve would follow her diligently, she turned on her heels toward the lunch line. She heard Steve's footsteps pounding behind her as he caught up.

"This is the watering hole of the animal kingdom," she said, gesturing to the heart of the cafeteria, which was loud and congested. "If you can, avoid at all costs. It's a pain in the ass to try and maneuver." Steve nodded, absorbing all she said. "Over there in the corners and ringing the edges are all the geeks and outcasts. They're not as populated and it's easier to get around and find a table for yourself." Natasha neared the lunch lines. "And here's the slop trough. They shuffle you through and shovel you inedible crud. My suggestion: bring lunch as much as you can."

He nodded yet again. "What exactly do you mean by 'inedible crud'?"

Half a grin spread across her face. "Just wait and see."

A concerned look appeared on his face. He filed behind Natasha in line, eyes glued to what she was doing. She suddenly felt sorry for the poor kid. He was probably overwhelmed. She plucked a tray off the stack and set it on the counter in front of her, watching as Steve fumbled to do the same. Sliding the tray down the counter proved to be a problem for him, and Natasha guessed his old school must've been very different than this one. A sandwich was thrown onto her tray, and a clump of mashed potatoes and slimy green beans scooped onto it. At the end of the line she picked up a carton of milk, along with some flimsy plastic cutlery. Steve looked horrified at what was being slopped onto his tray.

"_This_ is what is served here?" he asked, shocked.

"I told you to try and bring from now on," she answered him, punching her number in the keypad.

"Then why are you buying lunch?" Steve brought his wallet out of his back pocket and handed the cashier a few bills. A bit stunned, she handed him his change.

"I only buy when I don't have time to make one the night before." Natasha tried not to think about what happened last night.

"What hap-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped at him. She regretted it immediately after seeing the hurt look on his face, like a scorned puppy. She calmed herself down. "Sorry about that. Forgive me." The two of them exited the lunch line. "Now, I believe this is the end of our cafeteria tour. Only other thing you need to know is that the closest bathrooms are out the main doors to the right." She turned to look at him. "It was nice meeting you, Steve. Now, I have to go rejoin my table. Take care of yourself." She began to leave.

"Hey, wait." She stopped. "I haven't really met anyone nice today. D'you think it would be okay if I...sat at your table with you?"

She grinned, overtaken by the guy's adorableness. When he got a girlfriend, she was going to be treated like an absolute princess. Natasha couldn't do anything but accept. "Sure. C'mon. I'll introduce you."

She led Steve to the table, where the three bozos were still talking. They only stopped when they saw the hulking muscle behind Natasha.

"Um...Nat, who is that?" Clint asked.

"This is Steve Rogers. He's new here. I invited him to sit with us."

The three had mixed reactions. Bruce looked at him curiously, as if he had some sort of scientific value. Tony stared at him wide-eyed, like he was some shocking thing he'd seen before and didn't think he'd see again. Clint, however, turned pink-faced and wasn't really looking at him at all.

Natasha slid into the seat next to Clint, who still was looking at his food, and Steve took the seat next to her. Eventually the tension died down a bit, but Tony was still looking wide-eyed at Steve.

"I _knew_ it was you!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at Steve.

"Tony, what are you talking about?" Bruce asked.

"I saw him earlier today!" he seemed very excited. "I saw him when we were going to physics earlier today! I recognized him, but I thought for sure it couldn't be him. But it is him! Steve Rogers? From my father's party eight years ago? My, you've changed! How've you been?"

He reached across to shake Steve's hand, who seemed a bit bewildered. "Uh, I've been great. You remember me?"

"Of course I do! It's not like I was drunk that night, you know. And our parents still keep in contact, you know. All I hear from my father is Steve-this and Steve-that. It's like you're the Messiah or something."

"Um...thanks?"

"What did you even do that was so amazing to him? How'd you get buff?"

"Um...I went to a military camp for teens over the summer."

"Mhmm. Sure, that's all it was."

"Huh?"

"Hey, I know we didn't really get along very well at our first meeting, but can we start fresh? I'm trying to make a good impression on people."

"Sure, I guess."

Tony smiled. "Excellent."

The table dissipated into a Tony-fueled conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened at this party between Steve and Tony. She looked over at Clint, who was picking at his food. _Picking at his food_. A teenage boy. Something was wrong.

"Clint, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're not eating."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry."

He didn't respond. This was also a problem. He always talked, too. Maybe not to anyone else, but always to her. What had set something off in him?

Before she knew it, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She couldn't believe it; it was over already? Lunch never went by that quick last year. She tried to catch up with Clint, but she lost him in the mass exodus. This was wrong, too. Clint always waited for her. _Always_. What was going on? She was going to have to have a talk with him later.

"Natasha! Wait!" She heard Steve's voice drift in from behind her. She tried waiting, but she got caught in the flow of the crowd. She gained her footing outside the cafeteria, where Steve found her.

"I hate to ask you this, but d'you think you could show me where my next class is? I still can't find my way anywhere around this school."

"Sure, no problem." Anything to distract herself. "Where are you headed?"

"Um..." he took his schedule out of his pocket. "Looks like...AP World History...room H224."

"Well, lucky for you, that's exactly where I'm going. C'mon, follow me."

She led him to the nearest staircase, instinctively looking for Clint. He always walked with her, even if his class was nowhere near hers. Now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you looking for Clint?" Steve asked. Very observant.

She nodded. "Yes. Normally he'll walk with me to all my classes. Even if they're not his."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Her face flushed. She didn't expect that question to be asked. Sure, she knew some people saw them that way. It was just that no one ever approached them about it.

"No. He's not. He's just my best friend."

"Do you want him to be? Your boyfriend, I mean."

Now _that_ was certainly something she'd never been asked before. She just wondered why Steve was so curious. She only met him thirty minutes ago.

"I'm not going to answer that question for you, Steve."

"Why not?"

She didn't answer that one either. Simply, she just looked at him with half a grin, letting him think about it for himself.

"Here's the classroom. I hope you're ready for this. Not only is this an AP class, but we have..."

"Natasha. Steve. Please take a seat."

"...Mr. Coulson."


	6. Chapter 6: Steve

**A/N: I've finally updated this one! Woo-hoo! So so so sorry for the delay! I hope you can forgive me. But hopefully I'll be able to update more, though I can't promise any scheduled updates.  
I hope this is enough for you. I worked really hard on it, though I'm sorry it's still a lot of exposition.  
And please take my poll and read some _Iron Man Knows All_! Just updated!  
The page break function doesn't like me. Urg.  
Also, today I met a six-year-old who has her own cell phone and Kindle Fire HD. And another one who, when she told her friends to pose for a picture, told them to "look sexy." THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS WRONG WITH THAT.  
And PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review! I LIVE and BREATHE off those so without them I will die and there will be no more story. I want every single one of you to leave one. REVIEW! And feel free to tell people about this one!  
Love always,  
~PJA**

Chapter 6: Steve

Natasha walked into the room with an utmost confidence about her, and Steve followed. He still wasn't familiar with everything that was going on here, so he didn't exactly want to fend for himself. Looking into the classroom, he noticed that the desks had been labeled with printed name tags, and Steve felt the biggest relief when he saw he was sitting next to Natasha. He assumed it must be alphabetical order, since Romanoff was close to Rogers, but he didn't care. He couldn't really explain it, but he felt infinitely more comfortable with her next to him. He slipped into his seat, Natasha taking the other one in the pair without looking at him.

Mr. Coulson stood in front of the class. "Hello. Welcome to AP World History. This is _not _going to be an easy class. This class is going to be rigorous, fast-paced, and challenging, so if any of you signed up just for the GPA boost, I suggest you leave now."

No one moved a muscle. Steve began to sweat at the hairlines and bit the inside of his lip. He wondered if signing up for this class was a good idea after all.

"This class is going to focus on all of world history up to this point in time. Not only will we focus on the informational aspects, but we will also focus on the social, political and economic aspects. For homework each night, I expect you to take notes from your textbooks, which I will pass out momentarily, along with a few other projects and assignments throughout the year." Mr. Coulson scanned the room until his eyes landed on Steve. "You, Mr. Rogers. Could you go to the back of the classroom and pass out textbooks?"

"Certainly, sir." Steve rose from his seat and grabbed a mountainous armful of books from the back and began to pass them out. Each book landed with a large _thump _as it hit the desk, causing each kid to jump at the noise. He woke the dozers, scared the timid ones, and pleased no one, not even the nerds, Asians and goody-two-shoes. Even _he _winced when he passed them out. It was as if he was sentencing each kid to a year full of excessive learning.

But as he rounded his way back up to the front of the classroom, he almost stopped in his tracks when he saw her. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. She had brown, wavy hair cascading to her shoulders, pursed red lips, a perfectly angled face, and brown eyes that sparkled and looked right into his soul. Steve suddenly turned even hotter than he did when Mr. Coulson was threatening them. He shifted the books in his hands, remembering he had a task to do. And that task involved going right up to her desk. He took a breath, mentally preparing himself, and walked right up to her desk.

He deposited the thick book on her desk with care, giving her a bright smile. "For you, ma'am."

She took this very well, and gave him a smile in return. "Thank you."

Her voice was like an angel's, lathered with a sweet British accent and coated with just enough loveliness to melt him.

He knew he couldn't linger around longer without attracting too much unwanted attention, so he moved along and finished his route, parking next to Natasha with only his own book left in hand.

Mr. Coulson continued talking. "Now that you all have your books, we'll get started right away." This comment earned groans from everyone in the classroom. "I hope you all weren't expecting to get off to an easy start. It's not going to be that way in this class. Turn to chapter one."

He turned to write some instructions on the board, and Natasha took the opportunity to turn to Steve and give him a judging, teasing look with an eyebrow raised. "Making new friends, are we?" She asked with a hint of knowing in her voice.

Steve blushed, guard instantly up. "...What do you mean?" he approached cautiously.

Natasha motioned her head to the girl. "That girl over there. I saw you fall head over heels. And then manage to smooth-talk your way with her."

Only blushing more, Steve didn't bother hiding anything. "Um...maybe..."

Natasha smiled to herself with victorious pride. "So. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know!" Steve said. "I don't even know who she is! Do you know her?"

"Her name is Peggy Carter," Natasha told him, keeping her eye on Coulson, careful not to get caught. "Straight-A honors student, and has worked her way up in the ranks of the JROTC program. She works close with Colonel Phillips, and is now an officer. She's got a very commanding personality, and very no-nonsense. She's also the eye candy and target of many of the jocks in this school, but shoots them down every time. One time literally." Steve seemed horrified at this fact. "No, she didn't kill them. Wasn't even a real gun. One of the practice ones they use for the rifle team. And she's also never had a boyfriend, and I've known her since middle school." Natasha was forced to shut up, since Coulson turned back around.

"Alright. I've written some questions on the board. Find the answers in the first chapter. You get no help."

When he opened the book and saw that the text was size seven font, Steve knew for sure this was going to be a tough class.

.

* * *

The bell rang, signaling the mass exodus of everyone in the classroom. Steve sat back while he waited for the initial rush of people squeezing through the door, tucking everything into his backpack. Finally, the room was clear, and Steve and Natasha rose from their seats to exit the room.

"Steve, can I speak to you for a minute, please?" Mr. Coulson's voice sounded through the almost-empty classroom, bouncing off all the filing cabinets and desks.

Steve gave Natasha a skeptical look, and she gave him a look which he interpreted to mean "go talk to him," and left the classroom.

Steve pivoted and approached Mr. Coulson's desk. He put down his red pen and rose his gaze to Steve. He folded his hands on his desk.

"I like you, Steve," he stated bluntly. And Steve, surprisingly, found that he liked Mr. Coulson, too. He was strict, but in a good way, that got people to get things done. And he had a calm, no-nonsense attitude paired with a unique sense of humor. He liked this guy.

"And I feel that you are a dedicated, loyal, hard worker," Coulson continued. "So I want you to do something for me."

"Anything, sir," Steve said.

"I want to be able to trust you," Coulson said, looking directly into Steve's eyes. "I want to be able to tell you anything, to ask you to do anything, and know that you'll do it. I want to be able to rely on you. Do you think you can do that for me?"

This was a weird request coming from a teacher. Had it been any other teacher who asked, Steve would've been skeptical and would have likely given a hazy answer. But, since this was Mr. Coulson, the answer was clear.

"Yes, sir."

Coulson gave just a hint of a smile. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you. In fact, I need you to come in after school tomorrow to help me with a little something. Do you think you can make it?"

"I believe I can, sir."

"Excellent. Now run along to your next class. And have a good rest of your day."

"You too, sir."

Steve left the classroom and found Natasha leaning against the wall right outside, waiting for him. Steve was pleasantly surprised.

"I thought you'd left," Steve said.

Natasha shrugged. "Thought I'd wait for you, once I saw that Clint wasn't here and I gave up hope of finding him." She motioned for them to start walking, and they did.

Now this was a puzzle that intrigued Steve. "Why, does Clint have a class around here?"

Natasha shifted. "No..."

"Then why would he be here?"

"He always waits for me after a class ends. Always. That's the way it's always been."

To Steve, this screamed something more than "just friends," as Natasha claimed it was. He had to be careful about how he went about this. "Then...why isn't he here now?"

"I don't know. I told him my schedule; he knows his way around like the back of his hand. Says he always wants to be able to know the quickest way out. Something must have happened to his brain, and I don't know what."

Steve suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if it was somehow his fault. "Can I ask you a question?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes a slight bit. "Sure."

How blunt he was about to be. "Does he like you?"

Natasha couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Clint? _Like me_? No! He's...he's Clint! No, we're just friends, Steve. Nothing more."

_That's what they all say_, Steve thought. He'd seen it happen before.

Suddenly, Steve realized something. He had no idea where he was supposed to be going next. He fished his schedule out of his pocket and scanned the lines. He thrust the paper in front of Natasha and pointed to some of the words. "Do you know how to get to the JROTC room?" He asked with urgency.

"No..." But then she smiled, seeing something in the distance. She pointed. "Why don't you go ask Peggy? I'm sure she knows the way."

Steve looked up, and sure enough, there she was. Walking with a purpose, and looking absolutely gorgeous. It was all Steve could do to keep his cool. "What? No, I couldn't possibly. I mean, I just...no."

"You're blushing, Steve."

He felt the heat rushing in his ears. "I know."

"Well, it's either that or figure it out yourself, because I'm leaving you."

"What, Natasha..."

But she was gone. Steve looked away from Peggy to where Natasha had been, and she simply wasn't there anymore. It was a bit spooky.

He looked at the clock. Only a few minutes until the next period began. There was no way Steve was going to try to find it himself. There was only one option.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and picked up his pace a bit.

"Pardon me, ma'am."

Peggy looked up at him, almost paralyzing Steve where he stood. He attempted, and failed on the most part, to regain his cool before speaking again.

"I...I don't mean to bother you...but do you think you could show me to the JROTC room? I'm new here, and, I, uh...it's a big school. And I've already gotten lost."

She smiled at him in amusement. "Yes, I could tell you're new. I'd notice someone like you around." Steve almost drowned in the thick British accent. At least she hadn't immediately written him off. "Luckily for you, I'm headed just there. Follow me."

His heart racing, Steve couldn't believe his luck. Not only was he being talked to by the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on, but she was going to be in two of his classes. He hadn't ever been this lucky before.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name," Peggy said to him, those sparkling brown eyes looking into him again.

"Uh, it's Rogers." He held a hand out. "Steve Rogers."

Peggy, too, seemed impressed by his manners. "Peggy Carter. Pleased to meet you, Steve Rogers."

Steve smiled. "It's a pleasure."

* * *

Despite seeing Peggy's unforgiving nature as an officer, Steve was still high off the love radiating from his body. So much so, that as he wandered the hallways alone to his next class, he faceplanted into someone, and they both fell to the ground.

"Damn, again?" said the kid in disbelief. Steve rose and offered a hand to the kid, whom Steve recognized. It was Clint, Natasha's not-boyfriend.

"Sorry, completely my fault," Steve apologized. Clint took the outstretched hand and pulled himself up. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Nah, it's my fault, too. Kinda...stewing, on the inside," Clint admitted.

"Need to talk?" Steve asked.

Clint seemed a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. "No...no it's okay." He began to walk away.

"I'm sorry if I screwed up anything," Steve called to him.

Clint stopped in his tracks and turned back around. "Huh?"

"Between you and Natasha." Clint immediately turned beet red. "I...I couldn't help but notice that you acted a little...angry, or something, when I came with Natasha." Clint looked as if he was about to say something, but Steve continued. "And Natasha told me you were best friends, and you always walked her to her classes, and waited for her after every single one of them. And she made a point of saying you were 'just friends.'" Clint clamped a mouth shut. "But I just couldn't help but wondering." He took a step closer. "Do you like her?"

For just a moment, Clint looked vulnerable. He looked like he might have admitted something. But then the walls went back up, he hardened, and went back on the defensive.

"Why should I tell you? Why would I tell anyone anything like that? Even if I did?" He crossed his arms.

"I can see through you," Steve said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Clint sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Look, Steve, you're a good guy. That's quite obvious. For some reason, I want to hate you...but I can't. I've just been having...a few issues, is all. I'm a bit of a wreck, and I'm trying to hide it. Can we just...be on good terms?"

"Sure," Steve said. "And if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here."

Clint smiled. "Thanks. There's not that many people I can trust. Right now I only have Natasha, and there are just some things that...I can't discuss with her. I need someone for those things. You seem like a guy I can trust, that I want to trust somehow. It's weird, 'cause I barely know you, but it feels that way somehow." Clint sighed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. Just tell me to stop."

"No, you're fine." He knew how a guy could get under emotional stress.

"Thanks."

And then, any silence there might've been was gone.  
"Hey! Steve! I see you're conversing with the dear Barton! How are you two getting along?"

Clint sighed in defeat. "Hi, Tony."

Tony arrived and put an arm around Clint's shoulder. "Clint, I'm hurt. You don't seem happy to see me!"

"Not at the current moment," he muttered.

"So, Steve, are you best friends with Barton now?" Tony asked him.

"Somewhat."

"Excellent." Tony gasped, as if suddenly getting an idea. "I have a _brilliant_ idea! _You_ should come on our Friday night outing with us!" Tony jumped with excitement and delight. "Ooh, yes, that's a wonderful idea! What do you say? Are you up for it?"

"Um...what will be included in this outing?" Steve asked cautiously.

"We're gonna go out to a nice dinner, see a movie, and then go laser-tagging. It's gonna be great!" Tony was overly excited.

"Um...sure. Sounds fun, I guess."

"Yay! This is gonna be great! I'll pick you up at seven, and make sure to dress up nice for the dinner."

"Um, okay."

"Excellent!" Tony checked his watch. "Oh, goodness, we have two minutes left before class! I've gotta dash. Sorry I made you miss meeting your girlfriend, Clint. And I know I've just made you both late. Sorry about that. Ta-ta!"

And with that, Tony dashed down the hallway, leaving a seething Clint and a confused and bewildered Steve behind him.


	7. Chapter 7: Tony

**A/N: Hey there. I know it's been awhile and I wanted to update...but I feel guilty 'cause I don't think this is quite as good and definitely not as long. I'm sorry, but I do believe this is necessary. I'm excited 'cause I came up with so much plot and background but I have to wait until later chapters to use it. Sorry. And I promise, next chapter will have Clintasha. Yay!  
And, as always, check out my other stuff, take the poll on my profile, and tell your friends about this story!  
Also - REVIEWS! I LOVE THEM AND WANT MORE! :D  
Love always,  
~PJA  
P.S. My birthday's in three days...just saying**

Chapter 7: Tony

Gloriously ending his torture, the bell rung, and Tony leaped out of his seat to celebrate the end of the day. Quite honestly, this day wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He'd made some _great _friends - and that, honestly, was something he had trouble doing. He was looking forward to the little outing he'd scheduled for Friday - it was Tuesday! Why'd he have to wait three more days? Of course, he'd have to make all the arrangements, make reservations, and make sure his dad didn't notice all the missing money. No harm, no foul.

Of course, just as Tony was preparing to make his grand exit, he saw her. And he stopped.

It was the lovely and beautiful Pepper Potts. Strawberry blonde hair pulled up behind her head, and her official-looking attire daunting all she passed, her shoes clacked down the hallway as she walked next to her friend Jane Foster. They were deep in conversation about something, and hardly seemed to notice Tony gawking at them. Well, just at Pepper. However, luckily for Tony, Jane bid goodbye to her friend and left to go to her locker, which left Pepper all alone heading for the exit. Tony grinned. Now it was time to being this year's edition of the game _Make Pepper Fall in Love with Tony_. Tony hoped that this year, he'd win the game.

Pepper didn't see him until Tony had already slipped an arm over her shoulder. "Hello, darling. How was your first day of school today? I noticed that we didn't have any classes together this year. What a shame, I say."

"I say it's quite a relief after the four we had together last year," Pepper retorted, attempting and failing to get Tony to remove his arm.

Tony made an executive decision to ignore her comment. "How 'bout we go get some coffee? On me."

Pepper sighed. "Are we doing this again?" This time she stopped, removing his arm and looking into those dark brown eyes of his. "I told you all last year. I'm not interested."

Tony sighed. But he wouldn't give up yet. This wasn't just a game to him. "Fine. Can we at least be friends?"

Pepper took a moment to consider. "Fine. Friends."

"Can we get some coffee then? As friends?"

"Sorry, can't. Jane wants me to go with her and Darcy while they take pictures of the football team. And then afterwards we're going downtown to pickup some science and astronomy books."

It made sense. Jane and Darcy were photography students, along with them both being brilliant in the science department. But Tony couldn't help but feel hurt, especially if they were going to take photos of the football team. "Our football team sucks," Tony stated.

"I know," Pepper agreed. "We're in desperate need of some new players, but apparently out of the thousands of kids in our school, no one's good. But still, they have to take pictures for their class. And I think they wanted to go check out all the players."

"'They'? Not 'we'?" Tony brightened up.

"Don't get your hopes up. They're just not my type," Pepper responded, seeing the look in Tony's eyes. "Now I've gotta go. Have a nice time...doing whatever it is you do." She began to walk away, her shoes clacking as she left.

Tony sighed. "See you later." She didn't hear him. He had been hoping, in the pit of his heart, that he'd have the opportunity to invite her to his Friday night outing. Then it would be a double date...plus Steve and Bruce. But no. Alas, that was a thing for another day.

He gave another sigh. He'd get her someday. Sooner or later, Pepper Potts would be his.

* * *

Tony drove his car into the garage, joining the other fifteen-some-odd that were already there. He settled the car in park and took the key out of the ignition. He barely had a chance to grab his bag and slam the car door behind him before a platoon of mechanics and cleaners were on the car, inspecting, cleaning and fixing it, bringing the car back to sparkling perfection. One of these days Tony would drive it through a mud pit just to get on everyone's nerves.

Tony got in the elevator and rode it up to the main floor, tossing his bag onto the couch and helping himself to whatever was left in the pantry. He settled himself on the couch, putting his feet up on the table. One of the old, crinkled maids, currently vacuuming the floor, gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry, Felicity," Tony apologized. "I know better than to put my feet on the table." He removed his feet, admiring the crust of dirt he left there.

"As you should," Felicity snapped, sucked the dirt into the vacuum cleaner before moving back to the floor. "Your father won't be home until late."

"When is he not?" Tony wrenched open the bag of Ruffles he'd stolen and shoved a handful into his mouth. "Who's he meeting with this time? The President? Wouldn't be the first time."

"No, not the President," Felicity put away the vacuum and took out a feather duster, beginning her rounds on the countertops. "Some military man. Rogers, I think."

Another handful of chips stopped halfway to his mouth. "Rogers?"

"Yeah, Rogers. He's worked with him before. What's got you so bothered?"

Tony tried not to sweat at the palms. "Um, nothing. I've gotta go work on my homework now." Tony sprinted from the couch to the elevator, knocking the chips to the floor and spilling them all over the ground. Felicity steamed.

"Clean up your own mess, Anthony Stark!" she shouted at him, waving the feather duster in his direction. "Wait, don't you need your bag -" It was too late. The elevator door closed.

* * *

He clicked through his dad's files. Either he had no files on a man with the last name of Rogers, or it was well-hidden. And knowing his dad, it was most likely the latter.

This wasn't the first time he'd broken into his dad's office, but it was the first time he'd done so with a purpose. He had to know the connection between his dad and Steve's dad. There was something big there, and he didn't know what, and it was bothering him. He had to know. There was no way that Steve Rogers, the kid he'd met at that party eight years ago, and whose dad was a business partner of Tony's dad, could be now going to Tony's school by coincidence. Tony had to know what ulterior motives were at work here.

Ha-ha! Tony celebrated, as he'd just managed to crack the code for his dad's secret files. Honestly, the date when he'd started his company wasn't that hard to guess.

Tony sifted through the files, his hungry eyes scanning for a man named Rogers, and his connection to Tony's dad, and what Steve might have to do with everything.

_Bingo_. There it was. It was a file on a man named Joseph Rogers, married to Sarah Rogers and father of Steven Rogers. Tony knew he'd found the one. He knew he didn't have time to read everything, so he quickly emailed the file to himself, deleted the evidence, and then skimmed through the file. Joseph was a military man, and moved around with his family a lot. He married his wife and had his son in New York City, and lived there until Steve was five. Since then he'd lived in six places, and had moved back to New York twice. Poor Steve hadn't had much time to settle in some place.

Then he saw something much more interesting. Tony's father had met Steve's father at some presidential event for the military, and they'd hit it off. Tony didn't think he had time to read through it all right now, so he skimmed. It looked like they'd discussed some business stuff, and then they'd helped work with this organization called...S.H.I.E.L.D.? Tony decided to look into that as well.

He managed to find this file particularly quickly. He immediately emailed the file to himself and then decided to read it. He needed to know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was. It seemed like it was an important thing.

He didn't get very far before he heard footsteps approaching the room. And they weren't the _click-clack _shoes of any of the maids.

_Shit_. Tony had about fifteen seconds to clear the evidence of his searching. He frantically closed all boxes, cleared all searching and browsing history, made sure the desktop was clean, and then opened up a folder of pictures to browse, and propped his feet up on the table.

The door creaked open. Tony hoped no one could hear his heart pounding.

"Tony, what are you doing in here?"

Tony turned his head. "Oh, hi Dad! Nice to see you."

Howard Stark was not pleased. He stood tall, menacing and unamused. Even in his old age, Tony's father was one of the scariest, strict, and influential people Tony had ever known. He did not like to be crossed. He did not like to be out of control or power. And he did not like to be outwitted. "You're avoiding the question, Tony."

"Oh, right, that." Tony gestured to the screen. "I'm looking at some old pictures. Lovely, huh? Look! There's me when I was four! You used to love me back then, right?"

Howard looked as if he was about to blow a fuse. "Anthony Edward Stark, you have three seconds to get out of here. One..."

"Come on, Dad, you can't be that serious! I was only looking at pictures is all..."

"Two..."

"Fine. Alright, I'm going."

Tony swung his feet off the desk and landed them hard on the ground, not even so much as giving a glance to his dad as he walked past him, out the door and into the elevator. He had files waiting for him in his room.

* * *

Tony threw himself onto his bed. He sighed, then ran his hands through his hair. Couldn't life be easy, for a change? Was that too much to ask? Was it? He couldn't get the girl of his dreams to like him, he couldn't make his father love him, and he could barely make friends. What kind of life was this? The best things he'd done with his life were learning technology and hacking, and creating J.A.R.V.I.S. He'd had a butler, Edwin Jarvis, back when he was a little kid. He was more of a father than Howard ever was. But then he'd passed away, and Tony had created an A.I. in honor of him. It was Just a Rather Very Intelligent System. Probably one of the only useful things Tony had ever done.

He rose. He decided now would be a good a time as any to look at those files. He could put away the inner turmoil inside him and distract it by reading about this S.H.I.E.L.D. thing, whatever it was.

He sat down at his computer, opened up the emails, and began to read. It wasn't interesting at first, but as he got further along in the files, his eyes began to open wide. He honestly couldn't believe that his father was involved in something as large and complex as this, and have given to acknowledgement of it to Tony. Even stranger was that Steve's dad was just as involved, and it seemed Steve also had no clue.

But then it got worse. Tony opened his mouth in shock. This was not good. He had to tell Steve. He had to tell Steve as soon as possible. This was _big_.


End file.
